


For Even As Love Crowns You He Shall Crucify You

by Hekate1308



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 05:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20791070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: It should never have happened, of course. But Morse had a long, not-so-proud history of doing things that he should never even have thought about, so here he was.Here they were.And so they lay awake in the darkness until he felt the head that had been resting on his unclad breast move ever so slightly.A few uncertain breaths. Fingers that gently glided up to his face.And then Mrs. Thurs- Win’s voice. “Morse?”





	For Even As Love Crowns You He Shall Crucify You

**Author's Note:**

> I present to you possibly the very first Morse/Win fic out there. A comment gave me feels, so here we are. Enjoy!

It should never have happened, of course. But Morse had a long, not-so-proud history of doing things that he should never even have thought about, so here he was.

Here they were.

And so they lay awake in the darkness until he felt the head that had been resting on his unclad breast move ever so slightly.

A few uncertain breaths. Fingers that gently glided up to his face.

And then Mrs. Thurs- _Win’s_ voice. “Morse?”

_Really, Morse was just doing what he usually did when it came to comforting others – try his best and hope that it worked. _

_He’d run into Mrs. Thursday at Burridges, where he’d been conducting routine enquiries. He could have acted like he hadn’t seen her, of course – the entire station was aware of the problems she and DI Thursday had been having, even though none of them would ever allude to anything in front of him – but she’d already spotted him and was making her way over, and it would just have been impolite at this point. _

_“Morse.”_

_“Mrs. Thursday”. _

_“Win” she corrected him gently. “I haven’t seen you in a while; how have you been?”_

_In his many talks with Mrs. Thursday, he’d never felt this awkward before. But then, she had to know that he knew. He was after all the one picking DI Thursday up from his empty house every morning. “Busy with work.”_

_“I can imagine that” she said softly. _

_A pause. _

_Then, he ventured forth with, “How are you, Mrs. Thursday?”_

_She smiled somewhat weakly. “I’ve been thinking a lot, these past two months.”_

_Hard to believe that it had already been that long. He remembered being ushered into the house while the family was having breakfast so well…_

_He nodded because he didn’t know what to say. _

_“Anyway” she suddenly said, “it was nice seeing you again, Morse.”_

_“You, too” he managed to say and stood there as he watched her walk away, her shoulders slumped. He thought about the loneliness in her eyes – a sentiment he was all too familiar with – and moved before he had even realized what he was about to do. “Win, wait!”_

* * *

_In hindsight, he was surprised that she had accepted his invitation to the opera. But maybe she hadn’t been out much in the two months since she’d left DI Thursday. _

_He hadn’t told anyone about their appointment. At best, it would raise some eyebrows, at worst, it might agitate the DI. _

_And so, he walked up to the small place MRs. – Win had rented wearing his tux, feeling touched when she opened the door to reveal that she’d put on a nice dress and make-up for their outing. _

_“You look nice.”_

_“Thank you Morse, but we’re none of us getting any younger.”_

_“It doesn’t show” he said gallantly. _

_She tutted and reached out to fix his collar automatically. “Ever the charmer, aren’t you.”_

_It felt good to see her playful after the defeated expression she’d worn yesterday. “I do my best.”_

_She smiled at him and then they were on their way. _

* * *

_Morse had chosen _The Flying Dutchman_ mainly because it was one of Wagner’s shortest works – he didn’t want to overpower Win, being well aware that not everyone was as enthusiastic about the German composer as he was. _

_She seemed to enjoy herself however, which was everything he could have hoped for… at least until he got swept up in the music once more. _

_“It’s amazing, the way you listen to Wagner” Win told him as he walked her home like a gentleman; he*’d even offered her his arm, which she had accepted. _

_“What do you mean?”_

_“It’s just… you forget about everything else. And you look like you’re no longer carrying the way of the world on your shoulders. It’s nice, seeing you relaxed.”_

_He didn’t quite know what to answer, but thankfully they had already reached her flat. _

_“Thank you so much for this evening, Morse.” She surprised him by pressing a kiss against his cheek. “I really needed that.”_

_“No, thank you” he replied earnestly. It had been a whole since he’d had someone to go to the opera with. _

* * *

_And that was that – at least so he thought. _

_So why they ended up going out nearly once every week from then on was anyone’s guess. _

_Maybe they were just lonely; after all, DI Thursday had withdrawn from everyone in the station, and Morse had never been the best at making and retaining friends. _

_And he couldn’t deny that Win was good company when she wasn’t feeling down. That, however, was usually easily enough fixed – he soon found that she enjoyed hearing about the things he liked, the things he’d seen or read, often bestowing small pleased smiles on him as he told her all bout them. _

_They never spoke of DI Thursday. There was simply nothing to say. Sometimes, Morse would have liked to plead for his mentor; but who was he to interfere with the relationships of others? God knew his own never seemed to work out. _

_It was about a month in that things unexpectedly changed. _

_Win had made a habit of inviting him in for a cup of tea after he brought her home, and knowing how lonely an empty flat could feel, he usually accepted. _

_“I never knew Aristophanes was going to be so funny” she told him with a smile. _

_“They used a good translation, too.”_

_“Right. Sometimes I forget you were a Greats man.”_

_“As history proves, I wasn’t very good at being a Greats man” he replied as she handed him a cup, their fingers brushed ever so slightly. _

_“Ah well, at least Oxford got a great detective out of it.”_

_“But a poor policeman” he said with a self-deprecating smile. _

_“You’re still young. You’ll learn.”_

_She automatically moved to brush a lock off his forehead. _

_And something, something in the air, almost imperceptibly changed. _

_Later, he would think that he should have left then, that he’d known from the start and yet hadn’t moved to stop either of them. _

_He would never be able to say who had first leaned towards whom, or how they ended up kissing in the first place. Nor would he understand how this led to… other things. _

“Morse?” Win repeated, and he silently put his arm around her.

The most surprising thing about it all, he decoded. Was that this didn’t even feel awkward. He would have expected it to.

But he still wanted to make the effort to comfort her in case she regretted it, so he quietly asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

After a moment of silence she replied, “I don’t think I want to be alone right now.”

Neither did Morse.

So he stayed.

* * *

Again, he found himself firmly believing the next morning that things should have been awkward, but for some reason they weren’t. When he got up – thankfully it was a Saturday – Win had made breakfast and was puttering about the kitchen, and it felt strangely normal.

They didn’t talk much. They didn’t need to.

But as he was leaving, just as he was opening the door, Win called out, “Morse, wait.”

He turned around. A gentle kiss was pressed on the corner of his mouth, like a young girl would kiss a boy for the first time. “Goodbye, Morse.”

“Goodbye, Win” he managed to say.

* * *

There was absolutely no reason for this to happen again, he told himself as he made his way to his – to his and Strange’s place. None at all. They’d lost their heads for a moment, that was all.

Strange was already up and grinned knowingly when he came home. “Had a good night, matey?”

He knew well enough that he just needed to give him a simple answer. “Yes, thank you.”

Maybe that was the biggest problem.

It had indeed felt good.

* * *

Perhaps this curious lack of remorse was why it kept happening. He’d follow Win into her flat after their – their – whatever they were supposed to call it now, almost automatically already; sometimes they weren’t even intimate, just spent the remainder of the evening together. Eventually, a few of his shirts made his way over, as well.

They didn’t speak of it; they didn’t try to analyse or put a name on whatever it was they were doing; and they didn’t regret it, at least as far as Morse was aware.

About two months after that first night – he’d promised to take Win out to dinner, since she’d certainly cooked enough meals in her life – Strange told him just as he slipped into his jacket, “Good for you.”

“What?” he asked.

“Whatever girl you got currently, matey. You look much less haggard than you did before.”

He didn’t answer, but thankfully, Strange didn’t seem to need him to.

Until the day when he learned the truth.

Morse hadn’t even realized he’d seen them; he’d been pursuing a lead at the edge of town, and since Win happened to go shopping in the same district, something she’d mentioned at breakfast, they’d met up for lunch.

When he returned to the station, Strange wouldn’t meet his eyes. Morse supposed he’d said something wrong – he was good at doing that – but was surprised when the trend continued after they’d gone home that evening. Strange wasn’t one to hold a grudge, usually.

It was when they were having dinner that he took a deep breath and said, “Matey, I – I know it’s none of my business, but you should probably be careful.”

“What do you mean?” Maybe he’d heard something from their colleagues. God Knew Morse had stepped on enough toes.

Strange was silent for so long that he already believed he wouldn’t answer when he burst out, “I – blimey. It’s just – she’s a married woman. And more than that – she’s married to the _Old Man_, of all people.”

Morse felt there was nothing he could say to that. He wasn't ready to lie to him.

After a few heartbeats, Strange’s shoulders slumped. “I was hoping it wasn’t true.”

Again, there was precious little comfort Morse could have given him.

“Does he know?” He listened to the ensuing silence then said, “So he doesn’t.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Morse asked, careful to sound neutral.

“I’d like to keep my head, matey. And I don’t think he’d like this. At all.”

He felt a surge of protectiveness. “Win’s a grown woman. She can do what she wants.”

“Wi –“ his eyes widened. “Oh God. It’s actually something serious. Didn’t think you’d go for – well – always thought you liked them your age or a little younger.”

Their age difference genuinely hadn’t occurred to him. “It’s not about that.” It was about comfort, and companionship, and holding someone at night when the shadows grew too dark.

Strange closed his eyes. “I – well, just be careful, like I said. I won’t talk.”

He nodded.

* * *

“Strange knows” he told Win after the next time. The room was plunged into darkness; as always, he’d come to her place.

A few deep breaths, making him believe she’d fallen asleep; then she quietly asked, “Do you mind terribly, love?”, sounding perhaps a bit self-conscious.

That too – she’d recently started calling him things like that, and he hadn’t protested because he didn’t mind, didn’t mind at all, in fact.

“No” he replied honestly.

“Oh. That’s good, then.”

He wasn’t quite sure what exactly was supposed to be good, but he kissed her to prove that it was nonetheless, mater-of-factly, as cou- as people kissed after they had been together for a while.

As they lay there, their limbs tangled together, he knew once more that they shouldn’t be doing what they were doing; and that, even if they allowed themselves to sleep together, there should be no meals, no dates, no pet names; and yet he couldn’t regret it, because the small bits of happiness they bestowed on one another were worth it, and that no matter what would happen, no one could take that away from them.

And so he stayed the night once again, for the first time in a long time not worried about the future.


End file.
